The Spirit of the Moon
by MaxRide101
Summary: This is just a short story I did for school a while ago, decided to post it because I was bored. It turned out really well though... :D


**A/n Hey guys. I'm bored. When I'm bored, I go on the computer and do random stuff. :D This is just a short story I did for my Hum. class at school, and it turned out really well....**

**Fine this really had no point, but I am unimaginably bored, and so VOILA!**

The Spirit of the Moon

A long time ago, when the world was still yet untouched by the ravages of mankind, the planet was in perfect balance. Immortals, beings of energy and element, watched over this tranquil, lush world, ensuring that plants and greenery grew plentifully, evolution progressed according to the Timeline, and the water cycle flowed smoothly. They had many duties to this newborn planet, but the most important one of all was the rising and setting of the Sun and the Moon.

High in the clouds, seemingly insubstantial in its shade of translucency, was a flowing, silver and gold temple. It was neither solid nor liquid, but a gaseous substance only slightly denser than the Immortals themselves. The shape of the great structure, although seeming to flow and twist with the whims of the wind, was held together by the ancient magics, the same magics that created the Hourglasses, and the Sand within them. There were two of these mystical Hourglasses, each filled with exactly one thousand, four hundred and forty grains of Sand. For each minute that passed, one grain would drop from the ornate gently curving chamber at the top into an identical receptacle below. When the one thousand, four hundred and fortieth grain of sand rested with its kin, the High Priestess would flip one of the Hourglasses, and the corresponding heavenly body would rise, and the other would set. This happened twice a day, once for the rising of the Sun and the setting of the Moon, and once for the rising of the Moon and the setting of the Sun.

The High Priestess of the Moon was watching the floating Hourglass scrupulously, as she had done the entire day. Grain by tiny grain, the translucent bottom slowly filled until finally, the last tiny piece rolled laboriously down the curved glass, slipped gently into the solid silver tube connecting the two glass chamber, and reappeared at the other end, falling freely until landing on the very top of the pile with an infinitely small _pohf. _A silvery hand shot out immediately and dexterously flipped the Hourglass, a perfectly executed movement after decades of practice. Racing to the balcony, the owner of the hand pushed through the gossamer curtains and watched the moon rise, as a zealot might gaze upon the face of Christ. She sighed, her beautiful face turned upwards towards the silvery orb, the moonlight reflected in her wide eyes. All day she waited to see the moon, but instead her retinas were scarred by the harsh light of that blazing ball of heat that dominated the sky. She admired the moon, her face softly flickering from expressions of wondering love to gloating pride, for many hours. Slowly, an idea formed in her flooded mind. Ripping her eyes away from the luminous circle, she hurried inside, her large wings brushing the ceiling as she stretched arduously, then continuing forwards until she reached the aureate Hourglass. She reached her flowing hand through the solid glass, and pinched one minute grain between her thumb and forefinger, drawing it out slowly and delicately. Hurrying on to the balcony yet again, she flung the grain over the edge, and watched as it plummeted into the river so many feet below. The Hourglass now contained only seven hundred and nineteen grains of sand. She was suddenly suffused with a radiant sort of ecstasy, that soon spread through her entire body, to the tips of her toes and fingers to the largest primaries of her luminescent wings. She laughed with joy, and, balancing on the railing, dove off the ledge, soaring through the wispy clouds and the pitch black night, thinking of the weeks ahead, and the day when finally, the moon would rule the sky.

Her plan continued for 3 weeks. Each day, during the dead of night, she would stealthily steal one grain of Sand from the Hourglass, and fling it into the river below. This night, however, was different. The High Priestess was becoming impatient. She could only see her precious Moon for twenty-one more minutes each day, and it was almost a full month. Abruptly, acting on impulse, she reached inside and grabbed a handful of Sand, flitting to the balcony and harshly thrusting it towards the water below. She smiled to herself, and retreated to the Hourglass chamber, the adrenaline fading from her veins.

All of the sudden, a ringing voice that cascaded in her head like tinkling bells screamed in anger, overwhelming the Priestess with whirling feelings of rage, agitation, and affront. Her pale faced turned bone white. She had awakened the Spirit of the Moon. Spinning in a circle, her flowing gown rippling behind her, the doomed Immortal started to weep in fear. "I apologize, my love! My only desire was to see your bewitching, beauteous face in the starry blanket of the sky!" She now fell to her knees, her face turned upwards. "Please, you must understand the longing I feel for your soft, luminescent allure while you are invisible, over shadowed by that glaring sphere of fire!" There was no reply, and for a few rigid seconds, the High Priestess dared to hope that she had been spared.

Then came the feeling. The feeling of drifting apart, the feeling of your very atoms losing all ties to one another, the feeling of losing control over every minuscule cell in your body as the wind wafts them away, and the feeling of your limbs ceasing to exist as they drift away, propelled by the slightest breath of air. This was the feeling of an Immortal ceasing to exist. She wailed, grieving, for in death, she would never again gaze upon the Moon. She winged her way outside, her wide, powerful wings barely thrusting her forward an inch with each giant sweep, and threw her head up, pitch black hair cascading down her neck, the glossy locks fading away, and fixed her widened eyes upon the object of her devotion. Her mouth stretched open wide, and she emitted an ululating wail so mournful that the Moon's heart broke. As she faded away completely, her eyes closing brokenly, the Spirit swept the disbanded atoms into a burning, twinkling ball, and pitched it into the sky, where the devoted Immortal may forever gaze upon her love.

The Hourglass of the Moon could never be fixed, however, as the ancient secrets were lost with time. Despite the efforts of the Immortals, the moon can still sometimes be seen on a warm summer evening, just before the sun had slipped below the horizon.

**A/n It's a bit compressed because it had to be less than two pages, but whatever. **

**Keep Flying,**

**{-MaxRide101-}**


End file.
